


A Dirty Weekend at Bobby's

by ArtemisBennet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Crowley has oversized naughty bits and Bobby Singer adores them., Episode: s06e04 Weekend at Bobby's, Fun in the Panic Room, It's all consensual but one of them is a demon!, M/M, Power Bottom Crowley (Supernatural), Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisBennet/pseuds/ArtemisBennet
Summary: I'm sorry, I had to.  I'm going to Hell.  I hope.
Relationships: Crowley/Bobby Singer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I had to. I'm going to Hell. I hope.

His demon hadn’t shown up for weeks. Keeping Hell under control, no doubt, a thing Bobby Singer was all for. He’d been pretty busy himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about….things between himself and Crowley. He’d talked to Crowley on the phone and they’d made a tentative date for this evening that Bobby fervently hoped the demon would keep. Right now, though, he had the Winchesters in his living room.

Sam and Dean had dropped in a few times unannounced over the past month or so, ever since the making of his deal. At first Bobby had thought they were just concerned for him, but now, on this Friday night visit, they seemed worrisomely curious. 

“Crowley seemed pretty interested in you, Bobby,” Dean started out. “Focusing on you to make a deal for that Horseman information…”

“That was in his own best interests,” Bobby growled.

“Yeah, but why did he pick you? He could have talked to either one of us.”

“You want to kiss Crowley, do you? Be my guest.”

“No!” Dean’s expression was a study in panic.

“Look,” Bobby said patiently, “we dealt with him over the bones matter. I got my soul back in the end and my legs work again, so no harm done.” _We won’t mention that the soul-returnin’ hooha went aways I wasn’t expecting and involved some acts not normally recorded in the lore._ His dick twitched as though it had a memory all its own. Bobby just hoped his face didn’t give away the fact that he intended to spend the coming evening in dealings of another kind. Sure, he’d spent a fulfilling life hunting monsters and that was good, but that wasn’t all he wanted to do.

What he was doing with Crowley now, well, that definitely wouldn’t be taken well by the boys. 

Finally Sam and Dean left, with Bobby waving from the door to be sure they did. As though he had been waiting for that, which he probably had, Crowley blinked into being a moment later. He looked ruffled and irritated, though his fine suit and quality dress shirt were immaculate as always, his hair neatly trimmed. “All clear, darling?”

“You know it is,” Bobby told him. “That’s the Impala’s engine you hear receding right now. Was hopin’ you wouldn’t forget we were gonna spend a weekend in. I know time’s weird downstairs.”

Crowley smirked and moved closer to him. “Well, don’t waste any time then, lover.”

Bobby swallowed, nervous again, dammit. _This time last year,_ _I was completely straight. And pissed off at most things. And a drunk. And holding together every damn hunter in the country._ He reached for Crowley’s coat, slid a hand over his arm as he unbuttoned it, not able to put off touching him a moment longer. It always made him edgy when he remembered how old the demon really was and the extent of his knowledge in all things. Surely there was no way a redneck hunter could measure up, no matter how you intended the words.

Pausing, he looked down towards Crowley’s _naughty bits_ , as he described them, at the moment sedately concealed as a tempting bulge in his black trousers. Imagination did the job, though, and Bobby was already hard in anticipation. He brushed his hand over the area concerned, grinned as he heard Crowley catch his breath.

Since he first gave in to these desires only a handful of weeks gone, things had progressed rapid fire. Bobby had had those naughty bits in his hands and in his mouth more times than he could count. He flashed on one recent memory; himself crouched with his head between Crowley’s legs, Crowley’s huge dick thrust down his throat while Bobby’s hands gripped and fondled the demon’s throbbing balls as the King of Hell squirmed and squealed on the hunter’s bed.

He wanted him now so damn bad.

“Uh, look,” he was began. “I mean, I always do, so far, so I was wonderin’ if you’d like to, um….”

“Switch?” Bobby nodded. Crowley hummed as though considering it, then pushed himself up against Bobby so that the hunter gasped, feeling Crowley’s erection thrusting against him. “Maybe later, darling. We have all weekend and it’s been a long time in Hell for me to think about you shoving into me, relieving your frustrations, splitting me open with your dick. Maybe right here? I’m sure you don’t want to wait?”

Bobby didn’t. He shook his head and pushed his hand into those fine wool trousers to wrap his hand around that massive dick to grasp and jerk it. Crowley let out a delighted shriek of lust and sagged against him, gripping Bobby’s shoulders as the hunter roughly caressed him. “Ooh, darling, harder there, make me feel it!”

There was a sudden loud knock on the front door. Bobby groaned and swore a murmured, sincere curse. Crowley reached down, stroked him quick and hard. “Hold that thought, darling.”

It was his new neighbour, Marcy.

By the time Bobby got rid of her, his mind was definitely being overridden by lower desires and they didn’t involve either Marcy or her apple cobbler.

He got his pants open, lowered Crowley to the rug and had him.

“Told her I was watchin’ a horror movie,” he muttered against the demon’s neck as he thrust. “She heard you carrying on, asked what it was. Damn, but you’re noisy when you’re getting it.”

Crowley lifted his hips up to get Bobby’s dick more fully inside, groaning with pleasure as he felt the hunter fill him. “So keep giving it to me, Robert,” he murmured. “I want all of you in me, hard as you like, scratching that damn itch.”

Bobby moaned and thrust home, while the demon lay under him, spread apart and ready for all that he would receive. “Aaahh,” Crowley cried out, just as Bobby lost all control and rutted into him, emptying himself into the demon’s plump body. “That’s more like it, darling.”

“I think I’m goin’ to pass out,” Bobby gasped, lying flat atop him.

“Take a moment,” Crowley advised, chuckling heartlessly. “I need to mention something to you, lover, which I’m sure you’ve already given thought to. You, ah, haven’t _hinted_ at our liaison to any other demon, have you?”

“How many demons you think I invite into my house?”

“I take it that’s a no.” Bobby slipped to the side of him and Crowley turned to face him, looping his arms around the hunter’s neck to keep him close. “So you won’t mind me asking if you could keep it that way?”

“It’s not somethin’ I’m likely to let slip when I’m interrogating some slimy bottom-dweller of a demon,” Bobby pointed out. “But fine, fine. I promise never to tell any of your lot, so long as _you_ remember not to let on to Sam and Dean.”

“Our little secret,” Crowley purred and Bobby gasped agreement, wondering if their “little secret” was going to totally wipe him out. Even if it did, he didn’t regret a single damned – excuse him – moment!


	2. Saturday in the Room

The scent of sulphur was on his pillow. Bobby Singer did not open his eyes, knowing it for the very scent of damnation. He felt relaxed, invigorated, better than he had in years, he decided.

He could feel Crowley lying against him, the demon-warmth of him, knowing he was awake.

“Tell me again why you’re so into this?” he murmured. “I don’t mean _me._ You must’ve been with hundreds, thousands of people….just _this._ ”

Crowley’s chuckle was low and wicked, seeming to touch all his nerve endings in a caress without ever moving.

“When we’re not in a meatsuit, darling, we’re like smoke. You’ve seen demons smoke out, I know, many, many times. There’s no sensation, there’s just a sort of blank nothing that goes on and on, doing what stronger demons make you do. From the racks to the ranks, it’s hundreds of Earth years before a demon wears a body again and enjoys all the sensations that flesh can provide. It’s the closest we come to being human again.”

“Not sure about that,” Bobby muttered. He sighed and heaved himself up. “I’m gonna take a walk, clear my head. See you in a few.”

*

He took a shower first, half expecting interruption but there was none. Then dressed in fresh clothes and went out into the junk yard, where he walked quietly among the cars for maybe an hour before he went back to the house for coffee and some breakfast. 

Crowley didn’t eat, but he sat at the table and shared coffee, regarding Bobby thoughtfully as he did.

“God, last night was so damn good,” Bobby growled, grinning awkwardly at him. Even having Crowley _look_ at him was enough to wake him up, as it were.

“Don’t give Him all the credit, darling, you’re entirely responsible.” Bobby spluttered, unable to think of a comeback to that. “You know, I’ve been thinking. You’re always concerned about noise. What you need is a place somewhere here where we can, um, express ourselves fully. Where noise isn’t an issue.”

“Never heard you care about it before, but I think I may have somewhere that would fit that bill. C’mon, I’ll show you.””

#

Crowley was delighted with the panic room, but not for the usual reasons. He wandered around, murmuring approvingly as he touched various weapons – a crossbow hung on the wall, a quarterstaff – and examined coils of rope and staves of wood. “Very nice, Robert; you’ve got the makings of a superior dungeon here.”

“You know it’s not exactly the plan to have _fun_ with this stuff?” Bobby asked him. “It’s a last retreat for when things go so far south it’s lookin’ like north again.”

“Have some imagination, do,” Crowley chided. “You could have performed much more impressive acts of torture with some of these implements, but you and the boys are always just tying demons to chairs and hitting us. Is that really all you could think of?”

“It does the job,” Bobby growled. “And with the last one, I had her bones. If she didn’t play – which she didn’t – all I had to do was flick the lighter. Do you know your house geniuses think you’re Irish? Fucking morons.”

“Mmm, never mind all that. I’m here now. Why don’t you get those ropes, darling, and start attaching them to those metal rings, here and here on the wall. We might want some more attachments there as well. We need something like a spider’s web and in the middle, a sort of sling for your, um, subject to rest in.”

Somewhere in that, Bobby got the definite idea that they were no longer discussing torture.

He hoped.

He soon found himself drilling and hammering and attaching according to Crowley’s directions, as though the demon was producing some particularly depraved Hollywood cinema. Some hours later, they now had a sling supported by heavy ropes suspended in the centre of Bobby’s panic room. Crowley, smirking, demonstrated its use by reclining in it, resting each of his legs far apart as he braced his feet.

“Handcuffs would be good for your subject’s wrists, depending on how much, um, cooperation you have. Oh, all right, darling, I can see you don’t like that idea. How about this?” He gestured and had some bright, flimsy silk scarves in his hand. “These should do. I suppose I’m a little overdressed for the occasion.” Another click of his fingers and his fine black suit disappeared, then reappeared a few feet away, in the act of falling to the ground. Bobby found himself transfixed, staring at what was now revealed between the demon’s legs; his sizeable intimate parts so familiar now from these past weeks of debauchery and delight, so enticing. Oh, gods of hell. He’d thought there was no chance today at all, but now, he felt his own dick spring to attention as he licked his lips. “Oh, fuck.”

“That’s what I’m hoping, lover,” the King of Hell drawled softly. He leaned back as casually as though he was lying in bed, holding out the silk scarves to Bobby, who fumbled to grasp them. “Make sure these are knotted good and tight. If we were in my home, they’d be made of living fire drawn from the torment of damned souls, but I’m sure you can make me scream anyway.”

Bobby’s dick throbbed painfully and he drew several deep breaths. The demon smiled, his eyes flaring red, and behind them the panic room door slammed shut.

“Don’t want to be interrupted now, do we?” Crowley murmured. “Listen, darling. Don’t stop, no matter what noises I’m making. It will be all part of the game. Last night was a good start but I need more. I’ve had a very frustrating time since I was last here and I need you to make me forget all about it, hmmm?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have a safe word?”

“That’s only if I think I might want you to stop, darling.”

“Why can’t I just fuck you without the dramas?” Bobby growled, giving up any thought of resistance. He began to take his clothes off and dropped them on the floor.

“You can,” Crowley murmured, voice and body entreating the hunter. The demon arched his back and thrust his erection up further. Lube gleamed over it. “You can do whatever you like, Robert. I’m at your mercy.”

Urgent desire flared in Bobby Singer’s mind and body and he advanced on Crowley, pressing his erection up against the other’s as the demon lay on his back in the sling, legs far apart. “Safe word,” Bobby mumbled. “Please.”

“Margaritas!”

Bobby meant to draw in breath, but it was more of a moan. He hurriedly secured Crowley’s arms and legs with practised skill – even if said skill wasn’t usually employed for this means – and paused to look down at the welcoming scene before him of one naked male demon, splayed and ready, teasing Bobby Singer beyond endurance.

He didn’t know how he managed to keep from throwing himself on Crowley and just going for it, but he did.

Bobby ran his hands down Crowley’s fleshy sides and underneath him, leaning close so that he could slide his fingers teasingly around the rim of his entrance, savouring the whimpering sound of the demon’s breath. Nothing was better than this, listening to Crowley’s suave voice become rough and desperate and wordless as he writhed under Bobby’s fingers.

The hunter wanted to prolong this even further and pay the bastard back for all the teasing, but it had been too long already. Was Crowley _doing_ something to him, to make him able to keep this pace and sexually satisfy a demon king? Crowley had orchestrated the design of this so precisely that he was at the exact right height for deep penetration and he wailed as Bobby teased his hole; flushed and desperate and quivering with need.

That did it. Bobby lunged forward, gripped him hard to hold him steady, then slid himself into Crowley’s hole with very slick timing, if he did think so himself. Crowley’s rock hard dick shoved against Bobby’s stomach as he thrust as deep as he could go. Bobby wouldn’t have thought Crowley could get any louder, but his voice rose in ecstatic shrieks, making Bobby thank Whoever for soundproofing materials and distant neighbours, as he accepted his current fate and gave himself over to thoroughly buggering the King of Hell.

Moments later, Crowley felt the explosive release in Bobby as he came deep inside him. The hunter pulled Crowley hard against his body, the demon's huge, hard organ deliciously trapped between them. Crowley screamed his delight as the pressures brought him towards completion and he rocked desperately back against Bobby, trying/not trying to tear himself free from the bonds. The hunter swore softly over him, his voice mingling with Crowley’s cries as the demon came like a freight train. For the moment satisfied. For the moment fully at peace.

They never did visit the safe word.

SUNDAY

Where Bobby is let off lightly and where he and Crowley watch television, eat icecream and drink beer.


End file.
